


The Life You Say I'm Trapped In

by DaughterOfDungeonBat



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Banned Together Bingo, Canon Trans Character, Closeted Character, Gen, New York Gangs, Promotes Crime, Prompt Fill, Self-misgendering, Trans Male Character, banned together 2020, be gay do crime, discussing crime at fancy party, inspired by the greatest showman, pre-game, specifically The Other Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfDungeonBat/pseuds/DaughterOfDungeonBat
Summary: The person the world sees as the eldest daughter of the new-money Wynn family has everything that a young lady in that position could ever hope for.Luckily for him, a fellow thief sees the scoundrel under those frills, and exactly what will draw him out of his disguise.Cash, and a way out.
Relationships: Ned Wynert & Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	The Life You Say I'm Trapped In

**Author's Note:**

> Ned Wynert, trash man of London. Love of my life. Best character Ubisoft has ever made.

Of all of the things that Ned had expected to see at the engagement party of his cousin, which was a list that included his sister swooning over every available young man and his Aunt Inga drinking too much wine and losing her ability to tell the difference between her husband and his twin, the street-rat he had cut ties with was not on said list.  
  
And yet, as Ned was doing his best impression of a demure young lady of marrying age, he could not deny that the man making a fake-casual beeline towards him was none other than Isaac. Ned gave him some credit for how he cleaned up- he wouldn’t have looked out of place to someone who hadn’t been at his side in more than one shoot-out.  
  
He reached Ned with a self-satisfied smirk, and social conventions and the harpy eyes of his parents forced Ned to allow Isaac to kiss his hand.  
  
“Ned.” Isaac said quietly, and Ned hid a snarl behind one white glove.  
  
“You misunderstand sir,” he started, impressing himself at how he was able to hiss at Isaac without dropping his voice from the fluty tones of an heiress. “I am Henrietta Wynn, and I have no memory of having made your acquaintance.”  
  
“Oh really? Because you bear a striking resemblance to someone who was supposed to be my lookout on 12th street last week.”  
  
Without looking, Ned could feel his mother’s eyes on him. He couldn’t spend too long on the sidelines with a man she didn’t recognize without raising questions. He took Isaac’s hand on impulse as the music shifted to one of the few dances he knew he could perform while distracted, and yanked Isaac after him onto the dance floor. There was no denying the satisfaction as Isaac stumbled for a brief moment before falling into step.  
  
“Cut the shit Isaac.” Ned said, his voice dropping into his throat and he reveled in being able to speak naturally for at least a few moments. “I told you, I’m done. I’ve got a match set up, and I’m going to school-“  
  
“As you said last week. But I still call bullshit. This-” Isaac gestured vaguely at Ned’s entire body and grimacing at the folds of his dress in varying shades of blue. “isn’t you.” That, Ned had to laugh at.  
  
“What? You think I’m more suited to bleeding out in a gutter or getting locked up? I’m an heiress, with a good marriage arranged. What can you offer that’s better than that deal?”  
  
“Is it cliché to say freedom?” Ned rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt, but Isaac continued. “The wind in your face, getting to wear whatever you want, not having to deal with these stuck-up bastards anymore or ever again?”  
  
Ned purposefully moved out of step enough to plant his heel in Isaac’s foot.  
  
“Let’s say I do go along with your nonsense again. What’s in it for me besides all that pansy shit?”  
  
Isaac smirked like he was the cleverest bastard in all of New York and leaned close to Ned as the music swelled.  
  
He whispered a number, and a percentage, and Ned was no fool.  
  
“When?” He asked, trying to keep his face neutral. Isaac gave an easy smile.  
  
“December. A few weeks before you’d be home for Christmas, and we’re on the last ship out of this shithole before the New Year.” He said before bowing out of the dance with a wink.  
  
~  
  
Ned cut his long braid with one of Isaac’s knives, and cast it into the Atlantic near the docks. That severing took just as much of a weight off of his mind as it did from his head.


End file.
